The People You Love Let You Down
by lella7
Summary: As he is about to be killed, Gellert Grindelwald reflects on his life. Runner-up JPLE's As Life Flashes Before Your Eyes Competition on the HPFC forum.


**A/N- This is written for JPLE's As Life Flashes Before Your Eyes competition. My character was Gellert Grindelwald and my prompts were "gravity", "pine needles" and "the people you love let you down". I kind of struggled with this as I wasn't sure quite how to characterise him and how to get the balance between evil and remorseful. I also tried to make it into more of a stream of consciousness with some memories longer and more defined, others blurring into each other and I really hope it still makes sense. I'd really appreciate your feedback and any tips for improvement, as I'm not quite sure how it turned out. Lella x**

The People You Love Let You Down

"_Kill me, then, Voldemort, I welcome death! But my death will not bring back what you seek ... there is so much you do not understand ..._"

Anger flashed in the cold, red eyes of the wizard standing over him, but Gellert showed no hint of fear. There was nothing this man could take from him, as Gellert had lost everything that mattered so long ago.

"_Kill me, then!_" demanded the old man. _"You will not win, you cannot win! That wand will never, ever be yours-_"

Grindelwald knew the end would come now and he was powerless to stop it, but that no longer mattered. Powerlessness had haunted him his entire life. He began to remember, flashes of memory seeping through the walls he had created, in his mind, to hide the truth about that wand from the man who could never be allowed to find it.

He was a child and he was so powerful. Whilst the others could perform only random, occasional, little tricks, he had the world under his control. Objects flew into his hand, as though gravity meant nothing to them. Children his age cowered in fear, and fell to their knees in pain when they angered him.

When Gregorovitch first placed a wand in his hand, he could feel his power crackle, almost literally, through his very soul and he knew he was special. Yet, when his mother walked out on his family later that evening, he had never felt so powerless.

The memories became more vivid.

He was fourteen, and standing high on a snowy cliff that overlooked Durmstrang School. The boys he had forced to accompany him cowered at the edge of a scattering of pine trees, dusted with white, their shuffling feet crunching in the white ground. He turned to them slowly, twirling his wand between his fingers and savouring the sense of power he held over them. They had threatened Karyna and he would make sure they never did so again. They writhed as his curses rained down on them until they lay still, panting, in the slush, looking up at their attacker with pleading eyes. He considered them for a moment then gave his wand a subtle flick. His prey flinched, but the spell was not directed at them. The pine needles littering the ground had risen and settled eerily in the air around the boys. They cried out together in a single, sickening scream, as he brought his wand down and the needles shot down with it, slicing into flesh. With a cold smile, he left them there, dotted with spots of blood, and began his descent to the castle.

Karyna had not been thankful when she saw those boys return to classes, meek and despondent, a few days later. He remembered the flash of pity in her eyes and the slight tremble in her voice when she spoke to him. It had been unbearable. He had adored her, been obsessed with her, though she was just a silly, little girl. He had not seen that at the time.

He was eighteen and he and Albus were staring down at a triangular symbol, carved on a gravestone, in the churchyard of Godric's Hollow. The auburn-haired boy looked up at him, excitement in his twinkling, blue eyes. There was something else in those eyes too; adoration. It was the way he imagined he had looked at Karyna, and he realised at that moment that this brilliant young man would follow him anywhere. This young man would stand at his side and make him powerful.

Then came another memory of Albus looking at him, this time the twinkle in his eyes replaced by blazing fury, hatred and hurt. Ariana lay dead between them. He looked away from the pain in Albus' eyes, knowing that he had to leave and never come back. He thought of his mother, Karyna and now Albus; yet another person who couldn't be what he needed them to be. This time though, he knew it worked both ways. He had learnt the hard way that the people you love let you down. It only made sense that he would let down those who loved him.

He was nineteen and there it was in his hands; the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny. He had thought this wand would stop him from ever feeling powerless again.

For a long time it did. So many deaths flashed before his eyes; numberless, meaningless deaths and all the while that sense of conviction that this was for the greater good. He would have power, he would have control. He was doing this so that he never again felt that desperation, that helplessness that he had when he had looked into their eyes. No one would ever look at him with indifference, as his mother had, when she walked out of his life forever, with disgust, as Karyna had when she had heard the rumours about him, or... he didn't want to think about Albus. He made people respect him. But he went too far.

A final memory, a still image, came to him, as Lord Voldemort raised his wand and prepared to strike. It was of his hands, his empty hands, the moment after he had been disarmed in the duel with a man he had long ago called a friend. It was in that moment he realised he had lost everything. It was in that moment he realised that perhaps he deserved to.

He looked up into those haunting, red eyes that were so angry and so determined. But no one could hold power forever. All Gellert Grindelwald could do, as green light engulfed his frail form, was laugh.


End file.
